Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from Inuyasha and its characters.

You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog,
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine.
-from The Merchant of Venice. ACT I Scene 3.

Chapter Two:

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It is all hopeless; it is all for not.
You call me, sick, when prejudice is all you rot.
You hate me I see. But I hate me even more.
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I think I'm starting to lose my mind. The fever's gone, but he hasn't come. What is he waiting for?

I've gotta get out of this place, especially this room. There's nothing here except the pallet I'm sleeping on and the incense by the door. I cry to pass the time. Nobody seems to notice the salty scent. And I know they can smell it—Inuyasha would often complain about my tears.

I figured something out. The incense has less of an effect on me. Luckily, the servants don't notice and seem to come at routine times. When no one is here, I try to move around. I can even walk without any trouble—a victory of sorts, except I can feel the wards placed on the screens. I can't leave. I'm stuck. I'm alone. And now, I'm really starting to become afraid. Despair, I think, is the most bitter of emotions.

I remove the bandages from my arms and see how much the cuts have healed. His servants are really good at their job, I thought bitterly. No, I take it back. Guilt is the most bitter emotion. At least with the fever, I kept few coherent thoughts. Now, my mind is over whelmed with them. I look at my arms, my body and all I feel is…guilty, bitterness, despair, and utter anguish.

Gods, I don't want to feel this heaviness again. I wish that I didn't feel so broken, so empty, so wrong. I shouldn't be here…

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It started again, these thoughts in my head.
My mind and body flow apart like waves on shores.
Pain remedies it and ties me back as misery's whore.
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I will not scream. I scrutinize the room more closely, looking for anything that could possibly help. The room is purposefully bare—how the hell did the bastard figure it out!! Come on Kagome, think, think, my mind screams. And then I found to my own twisted relief a means of release. The incense was held not by wood but by sharp, thin metal wires. I couldn't stop the humorless smile that crossed my face.

I was so very focused. Picking up one of the wires, I tap it against the floor enough so that the glowing ash fades. The room dimmed slightly. And I make the first of the many small cuts that I would make. Sweet release. But I foolishly miscalculated. On my pass to make the second cut, a clawed hand grabbed my offending wrist, shaking it until I released the wire. How did he get here without my notice?

"You are reckless, human," he pulled my face to look at him, "Should I place wards upon your very person as well."

It wasn't a question that he asked. To anyone else, it would seem he was simply commenting. But I heard the underlying tone of frustration in his voice. Strange, I barely see him, and I understand him better. Has he been watching me all this time?

"You have obviously healed enough to regress to your own misplaced endeavors. Perhaps it is time to let you out of this room," and then he waited as if to gauge my reactions to his next statement, "unless, of course, you wish to stay in here."

"No, no, let me out, please, Sesshoumaru. I can't stand it anymore," I pleaded.

Then he smiled with a smile that wasn't really a smile.

"There will be conditions, human," looking at the new drops of crimson falling from my arm, "you cannot be trusted alone."

"Fine, I'll do them."

There was a dark, silent pause between us as I realized what I just agreed to. Oh, gods, don't ask me about the scars; don't ask me about the scars, I chanted in my mind.

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You think you can change what I am.
What I am is branded on my soul.
The physical only shows the symptoms, nothing more.
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"I will never leave you alone again," he said. And to think, that is supposed to be such a romantic line, especially coming from a hot guy. There I said it—he's hot. Moving on.

"Second, you will explain your reasoning for this foolishness," I shudder in horror, "But not at this moment, but you will explain soon."

"And last, you are still, the Shikon-no-Miko," I could have sworn I saw a glimmer of disappointment in his eyes, "I will train you to use your...skills for more productive devices."

Why is he doing this, I ask myself again for the thousandth time. I didn't bother asking him; I doubt that he'd gift me with an answer. Going against what I would have easily done when traveling with Inuyasha, I didn't argue with him. Even with all the rest I was getting, I strangely felt exhausted. When did I get this way? I'm sick of being this way too.

He released his grip from by wrist and walked away to leave. But when I was about to assume that he was going to leave me alone, he really did gift me with a response and said,

"Come."